


Fall

by mydickisthealpha



Series: I Won't Blame You [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydickisthealpha/pseuds/mydickisthealpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fire will never leave him, the smoke will filter in from time to time, but the new remembrance, what he has now, is enough to bring him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Very short drabble set to [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpoXAhiR_OA).

The sky is grey, covered in soft, but heavy clouds, and the wind sifts through his hair whenever it blows. He can smell the rain in the air, feel the nostalgia that scent brings him deep in his chest, but his heart isn’t broken. For once in his life, he’s not sad. 

He makes his way up to his front door, unlocks it easily, and pushes the heavy oak in, shuts it quietly behind him. He puts his keys on the table, in the rose-colored dish Stiles had put there when he moved in, humming some 70s tune. 

Derek breathes in the scent of his home, lets the comfort of it wash over him, the familiar ease and warmth bleeding back into his limbs as he shrugs off his shoes. The house is beautiful, but not exactly the same as it was before the fire. It’s different, because he wanted it different, because his pack made it different, and his mate made it different. Stiles still makes it different, in the places he lets his hands linger, the scents he leaves behind, in the memories Derek can taste as he brushes past them. 

There are still ghosts here sometimes, but a lot of them are of people still alive; Derek and Stiles themselves, their friends and family. He can see where he pressed against Stiles last week, can watch the phantom shapes of them as they talk in the living room, or dance in the kitchen. He can see Scott balancing a baby on his hip as Allison holds a hand against her swollen belly, can picture just where Isaac and Boyd were napping on the couch just days ago. 

He smiles to himself, focuses in on the steady heartbeat and breathing coming from upstairs. 

He trails his fingers on the banister of the steps as he moves, relives a time when children and adults alike ran up and down them, calling out, howling with laughter. He lets their memory calm him, feels an ache in his chest-- but it’s a good one. It will never feel right, but he doesn’t want his family to be a source of sadness anymore. He wants to honor them in living, paint pictures of the great people they were. Like here is the hallway where Laura pushed him around in a laundry basket, and there is the bathroom where his mother cut his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead when he made a face at the change. 

The fire will never leave him, the smoke will filter in from time to time, but the new remembrance, what he has now, is enough to bring him back. 

The door to his room is cracked open, so he goes in silently, and there he is. 

Stiles has the bay window open, a book in his lap, but his eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily. His face is tilted towards the window, like he fell asleep watching the clouds instead of reading. Derek smiles softly, and watches for a moment, lets the love he feels fill his chest instead of hiding it away in fear. It had taken more than enough time for him to open up, and now that he has, he doesn’t know what it would do to him to have to close his heart again. He doesn’t know what he’d do without Stiles, who loves him so easily and so fiercely. 

He moves, leans over to press a kiss against Stiles’ brow, and Stiles makes a noise and mumbles. His eyes open, bleary and distant, until he sees who woke him. A grin widens his face, and he sucks in a breath through his nostrils, yawning out and stretching. He pulls Derek back down for a chaste kiss on the lips, pecks the side of his lips once more, and then lets go. 

He asks Derek about his day, and Derek tells him, complains about Scott and his god-awful children (to which Stiles rolls his eyes in disbelief), and fills him in on their progress. Stiles makes a joke, and Derek laughs sarcastically, before he’s moving in for another kiss. 

He shows his appreciation for Stiles in the way he kisses him, in the way he moves his hands to hold, and in the way he lets Stiles in. Stiles gives more than Derek feels worthy of, gives and gives, and takes until Derek feels exposed in all the ways he’d never wanted to be. When they make their way to their bed, their scents curling around them, their sounds reverberating back into the very heart of them, they put their pieces back together, slowly. Stiles laughs, and Derek grins, and they gasp and arch into each other until they’re trembling, absolutely overwhelmed with the thought of the other. 

And when Stiles drifts, chattering, his head pillowed on Derek’s shoulder, Derek closes his eyes and finds sleep in his fall.


End file.
